The Soldier's Resolution

See the night's ta'en its leave, the streamers of day, Begin from the eastward to dart, The ravilia beats, and I'm summon'd away, 'Tis hard my dear Betsey to part,

It is not the foe in the field that I dread, Nor the point of the glittering steel, It is not the whistling bullet of lead, 'Tis parting with thee that I feel.

I must not indulge in the thought of my dear, The bustle of war is around, The bellowing trumpet blows loud in the ear, My spirits start up at the sound.

I'll fight for my king as a soldier should fight, Yet were I to 'scape with my life, When the wars are all o'er, 'twou'd be my delight, To make my dear Betsey my wife.